


Haircut & Beard

by sashach



Series: Evanstan by Anie [5]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: English translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian can't wait to cut his hair while Chris won't shave his beard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut & Beard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie/gifts).
  * A translation of [Evanstan短篇合集](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884074) by [Anie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie/pseuds/Anie). 



> This translation has not been proofread, I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

“Can you shave your beard?” Sebastian is in the bathroom, busy looking in the mirror shaving himself, when he suggests that to Chris. The blond has just finished brushing his teeth.

“What?” Chris spreads his hands amidst the humming of the electric razor. “Don’t you find it sexy?”

“Oh. Okay.” Sebastian turns off the razor and put it back on the counter. “Then can you shave your sexy beard?”

The capacious marble counter glistens under the warm yellow light in the bathroom. Chris lifts his legs and sits on it firmly without a hitch. “Honey, that’s not fair. I didn’t ask you to cut your hair.”

“Get off the counter.” Sebastian is styling his hair in the mirror. He sees Chris’ sitting on the counter in the reflection and kicks him casually; it lands on Chris’ ankle nicely. Upon hearing the other man’s exaggerated wince, he shrugs his shoulders triumphantly. “You know I wanna cut my hair all the time, but the directors won’t let me. Also, my hair is only a little longer. A little! Don’t say it like it’s waist length.”

 

Chris loves his beard. It saves him the trouble of shaving every morning. His beard is also very principled; so perfectly grown he only has to trim it every other day.

He feels uncomfortable when he has to make a movie with his chin naked.

“It’s like walking down the streets naked. Can you imagine?” Chris explains to Sebastian.

_Sorry, I don’t think I can._ Sebastian rolls his eyes. But he decides to forgive Chris for the time being. Before they were together, Chris’ tastes in clothes was so bad it was beyond judgement.

So when Sebastian sees photo sets made by fans, comparing the similarity between their clothes, he only feels accomplished.

 

Sebastian doesn’t really like Chris’ beard. He still spends the same amount of time in the bathroom in the mornings, except now Chris leans against the door frame to wait for Sebastian.

Or, by the time Sebastian comes out of the bathroom fresh and clean, Chris is already reading his papers in the living room.

And to be honest, when they kiss, Chris’ beard scratches Sebastian and it prickles.

“God, I don’t even know where to start?” Sebastian cups Chris’ face, surveying him with his grey-blue eyes. The warmth of his finger tips and the heat of his breath leave Chris breathless.

“Like this.” Moving in accordance with the way Sebastian is holding his face, Chris leans forward and presses a kiss on his lips.

Sebastian’s lips are almost always moist because he likes to lick them; lingering on his lips is the taste of the fruity candy he’s just had.

Chris catches a trace of the flavor when their lips meet. He leans forward again, gently holding Sebastian’s wrists, brings them down to lace their fingers together. He nibbles Sebastian’s lower lips to taste the saccharine sweetness of the candy. Then, like a kid who loves candy, enters Sebastian’s mouth to explore for more of that sweetness.

Sebastian’s hair hangs loose on his shoulders; uncombed and messy. Sunlight penetrates into the room, covering them with a veil of warm beam as their kiss deepens.

 

Chris and Sebastian have different point of views.

For example, Chris likes Sebastian slightly long hair. Sometimes he enjoys the feeling of that softness when he runs his fingers through Sebastian’s hair. Sometimes he likes to mess it up and watches Sebastian jumps a few steps away from him, frowning as he straightens it out; the corners of his lips downturned slightly, face crumpled like an upset dumpling. Chris would then let out a happy laugh without holding back while the corners of his eyes and his lips are infused with tender sentiments. But Sebastian is unimpressed. As the target of Chris’ hair pranks, he’s always thinking of cutting that infuriating hair.

For example, Sebastian doesn’t like Chris’ beard. He’s ticklish and he’s particular about laughing out loud when kissing—it’s rude to laugh at that passionate moment—but it’s too strenuous to keep a straight face. Although Sebastian does like the feeling when Chris rubs gently against his face like a golden retriever when they hug, but only a little. Most of the time, for Sebastian, the beard is more cons than pros. But Chris’ love for his own beard is just as steadfast as his love for the colorful yet similar t-shirts in his wardrobe.

For example, Sebastian opposes to adding cream in whatever he drinks. There’s a small Starbucks below their apartment; the only coffeeshop within the block. Chris comes home with two cups of coffee with “Evans” written on them with a marker. Sebastian randomly picks one up, takes a sip and pushes it over to Chris with a scowl. “Unbelievable. Are you sure that’s not honey?” Then changes it to his cappuccino; less foam, no cream.

Differences of such are countless. They sometimes fight because of that. Sebastian would mock at Chris’ habit of adding numerous cubes of sugar to his coffee; Chris would sneer at Sebastian for not liking cheese ribs. The topic would eventually deviate to Sebastian reproaching Chris for not shaving his beard, and Chris would end the pointless fight with “I’ll shave my beard if you cut your hair.”

“Even so, I still can’t agree with you,” Sebastian would always say. “You know, cheese ribs hardly have any flavor.”

 

Sebastian and Chris wear their fragrance in the same method—spray the fragrance into the air a couple of times, then walk into the spot where they’ve sprayed the fragrance, so that the smell wouldn’t be too powerful. Humble simplicity is more everlasting than sheer grandiosity.

On the topic of fragrance, Sebastian has always preferred the smell of peppermint; even his shampoo is peppermint scented. He hardly has any idea on choosing a fragrance for himself, so when he tells his agent his favorite smell, she shakes her head repeatedly. “No, Sebastian, can’t do with your choice. I want you to try something light and subtle, not a peacock flashing its feathers looking all handsome but aggressive.”

So Sebastian asks Chris for his opinions. Chris is playing with a Marlboro cigarette box. He isn’t a habitual smoker, neither is Sebastian. Chris says, “Seb, I think any fragrance is an aphrodisiac on you.”

The discussion ends with Sebastian throwing the two boxes of fragrance he’s been looking at on Chris.

The one time when Sebastian finds Chris sexy with his beard, the latter doesn’t know. He’s busy making his directorial debut; the location is in Boston.

He says goodbye to Sebastian hurriedly, pulling his luggage behind him to catch the red-eye.

It’s the transitional stage from fall to winter, the air is still dry and cold. Sebastian gets tired easily; Chris is always saying how he looks sleepy all the time. They don’t get to see each other as often when they’re busy with their own projects, but the day when they say goodbye is always tough for them. Sebastian feels the missing weight next to him. He exchanges a kiss with Chris dazedly; Chris has grown his beard for the movie and it rubs against him ticklishly, so he buries his face in the pillows.

He feels Chris touching his hair gently, then squeezes the back of his neck. Next he hears the sound of deliberately soft footsteps, the rolling wheels of the luggage, and the door is closed.

And Sebastian wakes up suddenly, as though Chris has taken away all the warmth in his sheets. He sits up to turn the thermostat up. He feels slightly dry out of the blue.

He pads to the living room in his bare feet to get a glass of water. He turns on the bedside lamp and finds a messily scribbled schedule tucked in the stack of books.

Chris’ flight arrives in Boston before dawn. He heads home first. Years ago East used to run toward Chris in little steps to greet him; it has been a long time. Chris suddenly misses the bulldog who would lay on the floor stupidly for Chris to scratch his tummy. Poor East. Chris will never forget his companion, and it will never meet the love of Chris’ life.

He goes to his room quietly and puts down his backpack on the desk where he used to study for his math exams. He makes a call to one of the staffs working on the movie, telling them they can start filming in the afternoon once all the preparations has been done in the morning.

He hangs up the phone; the interface is on his contact list. He scrolls through the list and stops a simple “S”. He slides his phone back into his pocket in the end. He decides he’ll give Sebastian a call when he wakes up; the brunet wakes up grumpy after all.

Chris turns on the lamp on the desk, a soft and warm light illuminates a small section. He picks up a picture frame on the desk. It’s a picture of him and Scott when they were kids, tucked between them was East; the bulldog was his companion for twelve years. He and Scott used to think East was silly and stupid when they played with him; a small bundle with a patch of black fur on his downturned right ear. East didn’t like to play frisbee, but loved to lay on his back in the grass under the sun. He also liked to roll in the wet grass after rain, making himself muddy, smelling of green grass. And Chris would argue with Scott on who should give him a bath. He was just a silly and stupid old dog. When he went to sleep forever, Chris was devastated; cried himself silly and stupid. _It’s all your fault, East_ , he thought, _I now behave like how you used to be when I’m sad_.

Chris puts the frame back on the desk, purses his lips and takes out the thick stack of script from his backpack. It’s filled with detailed adjustments written by Chris.

“We can get a dog, if you want,” says Sebastian on the other end of the phone. “You know I like bulldogs, too.”

“No, we’re not getting bulldogs,” Chris looks at his cell phone on the set to check for seat availability for his flight. “We can get a bigger dog.” Because all the bulldogs in the world combined can’t replace East.

“By the way,” Sebastian is at an event. The background is noisy with the emcee is speaking into a microphone. “Your beard scratched me this morning.”

“I know,” Chris smiles, his eyes curves into a beautiful angle. “You almost buried yourself in the pillows.”

Sebastian is at a publicity event. He knows he’s not very good at managing the audience. All his language proficiency declines to a negative level before professional emcees and journalists. 

He admits he’s still not skilled at cracking jokes and making impromptu remarks Marvel style, and the ability to switch topic ingeniously.

He finishes the enduring and boring interview quickly and goes straight to the airport. Chris has told him over the phone that the first scene would start filming in the evening; he’s been practicing the trumpet for almost a month at home.

Chris doesn’t know he’s there. Of course he doesn’t. He’s the actor and the director. The cameras are trained on him, waiting for his orders at the same time.

This is like war. Chris is the general and the soldier. Everyone is concerned with the result of the war, but only Chris and Sebastian know how much effort has been poured into the preparations before it has actually started.

The movie is the starting point of a dream. Chris has been watching Richard Linklater’s _Before Sunrise_ trilogy repeatedly, studying the dialogues and the techniques of long takes. He doesn’t want his movie to be too drawn-out or too superficial; it’s a tough line to draw. He’s talked to Richard Linklater, has discussed with Ronard Bass. He’s even drank black coffee without any sugar or cream.

When Sebastian finds the place, Chris is wearing a black jacket, standing at the exit of the tunnel, leaning against the wall; a picture of desolation. He notices the leading actress walking past hurriedly, rushing to catch the one-thirty train.

That’s the beginning of everything.

Sebastian watches from afar, remembering the first moment when he and Chris first met. On the couch in the dressing room on set. Chris gave him a cup of cappuccino with cream and said, “Hi, I’m Chris Evans.”

And Sebastian took the cup of coffee; it was so sweet he couldn’t help but purse his lips tightly, reached out a hand to shake Chris’ and introduced himself, a little flustered. “Um… Sebastian Stan.”

Then he heard his name rolled out from Chris’ lips. There’s always this nice tone when Chris says his name, it sounds so different from the others.

They became acquainted with each other from that day onward, and Chris also had Sebastian’s taste for cappuccino without cream memorized.

Sebastian watches as Chris finishes the scene, calls out “cut” himself and runs over to the camera to check what they’ve just filmed. Sebastian wants to laugh. He pulls out his cell phone to text Chris. He’s typed out a long message, considers a bit, deletes the message word by word and sends a smiley face emoji instead.

Then he sees Chris puts down the script on the folding chair abruptly and takes out his cell phone from his pocket to take a look. His smile is radiant.

Chris keeps his beard until the day before filming begins for the third Captain America movie. Sebastian stands in the bathroom gleefully as he watches Chris shaves his beard in the mirror.

When Chris finishes putting on his after-shave, Sebastian moves to stand before him, touches his smooth chin and even squishes his face.

“How much did you want me to shave my beard?” Both amused and sad, Chris swats away Sebastian’s hands that can’t stop touching his face.

“All the time,” Sebastian quirks his brow as his smooths his medium length hair.

 

Alas, it’s a short-lived dream. When filming has ended, Chris grows his beard back and shows off to Sebastian childishly for winning a score.

Sebastian still can’t cut his hair.

Chris still refuses to shave his beard.

Chris attends a publicity event with Anthony and the directors, he later appears at the Golden Globe awards and makes a speech.

“Don’t you think it was great?” Chris says to Sebastian. “They were all cheering for my beard!”

“Nope.” Sebastian pulls out his hair tie quickly, scrunching his hair loose on his shoulder casually. He puts the hair tie around his wrist. “I think they were touched that you’ve finally decided to be normal and wear something proper.”

“Jesus!” Chris loosens his tie, unbuttons his suit and says warily, “Can’t you just let those terrible outfits go? I knew nothing back then!”

“I’m happy for your self-knowledge, Mr. Evans,” Sebastian throws the suit jacket on the couch. “You have no idea how imaginative your t-shirt, shirt, suit jacket, jeans and sneakers combo was. Oh, how did you decide to match you suit jacket and shirt in the same color? And even the tie?”

“Oh, please.” Chris throws the suit jacket at Sebastian and raises his hands in surrender.

When the pick-ups have ended, Sebastian waits in anticipation for another week before he asks the production team what’s the next step for him; he’s elated to visit his hairdresser.

He’s in a cheerful mood when he comes home with a refreshing short hair. Even when he’s mistakenly squeezes the same amount of shampoo when he had longer hair, making his hair smells of strong peppermint fragrance, it doesn’t have any effect on his good mood.

It feels like getting a new life.

He throws all the hair ties he’s bought on eBay to where he can’t see them. He doesn’t have to tie his hair anymore, doesn’t have to put a hair tie around his wrist anymore. He feels like Dodger; free from the leash.

Oh yes, Dodger is the dog he and Chris have chosen to get. He’s light brown with two white front limbs. They’ve sent Dodger to Boston when they were both shooting for the movie.

They’ve brought Dodger back after the pick-ups. Chris finished his scenes earlier than Sebastian, so he’s able to grow his beard freely.

Sebastian is lying on the couch watching the replay of a drama on tv when he hears Dodger barking happily outside, reminding him someone’s back.

Chris pushes the door open, holding a big bag of dog biscuits and stuffs. Dodger likes Sebastian so much when Chris unleashes him, he runs toward the couch where Sebastian is now sitting up.

“Hey, if this goes on, Seb, I’m gonna be jealous,” Chris puts the carrier on the floor and goes to change into something more leisure. “You know, I saw…”

Chris stands there dumbfounded when he looks at Sebastian’s direction.

“Saw what?” Sebastian is scratching Dodger’s back when he looks up at Chris, grinning. “Now that my hair is short, can you shave your sexy beard?”


End file.
